"Lisbeth!" I exclaimed, "do you mean to say that you think—"
"I know!" she broke in, and turning away, hid her face in her hands. We were not so very far from the bend now, and seeing this, a sudden inspiration came upon me, by means of which I might prove her mind towards me once and for all; and as she kneeled before me with averted face, I leaned forward and took her hands in mine.
"Lisbeth," I said, "supposing I did cut the boat adrift like a—a fool—endangering your life for a mad, thoughtless whim—could you forgive me?"
For a long moment she remained without answering, then very slowly she raised her head:
"Oh, Dick!" was all she said, but in her eyes I read the wonder of wonders.
"But, Lisbeth," I stammered, "could you still love me—even—even if, through my folly, the worst should happen and we—we—"
"I don't think I shall be so very much afraid, Dick, if you will hold me close like this," she whispered.
The voice of the weir had swelled into a roar by now, yet I paid little heed; for me all fear was swallowed up in a great wondering happiness.
"Dick," she whispered, "you will hold me tight, you will not let me go when—when—"
"Never," I answered; "nothing could ever take you from me now." As I spoke I raised my eyes, and glancing about beheld something which altered the whole aspect of affairs—something which changed tragedy into comedy all in a moment—a boat was coming slowly round the bend.